


Pillow fort.

by ZeeBirdy



Series: Multinational Venture Capital Conglomerate [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angel is a baby, Atlas CEO Rhys, Domestic Fluff, Feel-good, Flirting, Good Dad Jack, Hyperion CEO Handsome Jack (Borderlands), M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Single Parents, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeeBirdy/pseuds/ZeeBirdy
Summary: Rhys has a particularly stressful day at work, and the sight of his boyfriend and his daughter having sweet, wholesome fun together makes him envious for something similar to relieve his stress.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Multinational Venture Capital Conglomerate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1519655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	Pillow fort.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lost_Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/gifts).



> A wee gift for @Lost_Elf, I hope you like it! 💜

Rhys has never been very good at managing his stress. Not when he was a kid and his biggest grievances were cleaning up his toys, and not in his adulthood when his responsibilities have quadrupled and made a few grey hairs appear. He's wired to acknowledge stress, to absorb the carnage that comes in the fray of madness, and talk through it in a flurry of desperate hope. He hopes if he acts confident, he'll trick himself to be calm, but it never seems to work. 

Knowing his stress intimately does not mean he has perfected the art of controlling it: fact. 

Being in close proximity to a man like Jack doesn't help much either. Whether rivals, partners or lovers, he sees Jack's process, his coping methods, and learns them to memory, every last fine detail. Jack's like fire, and ice, and unashamedly burns those who threaten to tamper with his genius, channelling his rage for all its worst qualities and manipulating his surroundings how he needs them to be. Stress only strengthens Jack. He uses the energy that would go into worrying, and reflects it back into his work, to his employees; gleeful to feel so powerful as the world sweats around him.

Rhys isn't like Jack. 

Today is one of those days. Coming through the front door, he throws his keys at the kitchen counter and jerks hearing the clunky scratch from the metal scraping marble. He drags his feet towards the sofa, and falls in a defeated slump. His body  _ aches _ \- bones, muscles, even the  _ hair _ covering him, all whining in agony. Upon release of holding his weight, the balls of his feet begin throbbing in unbearable pain, he has to hold his breath at first.

Too much paperwork. Too many decisions. Too many wide eyes looking to him for impactful, detrimental decisions he didn't feel confident making. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes a long, calming breath before fishing it out of his suit pants, and sees the string of hearts that make his own skip a beat.

**HJ💛💛💛:** _I no longer live in a luxurious penthouse. I upscaled, got something no one else even knew about yet. Real glamorous, Angel will inherit it once I kick the bucket._

Rhys raises his brow and starts typing away rapidly, until a second message pings through.

**HJ💛💛💛:** _ We may do some renovations though. Angel wants it bigger, better. She's a real visionary, just like her old man. _

Now Rhys is really confused. He starts to wonder how long it's been since he last saw Angel - she's still a babbling toddler, right? Or has it been so long she's suddenly a fully developed, mature woman who understands house design and remodeling? He keeps typing.

**Rhysie👅:** _ Where did you move to, is it far? _

**HJ💛💛💛:** _ Not at all, cupcake. Same place you know, neighborhoods too good to leave. _

**Rhysie👅:** _ What are you talking about? _

**HJ💛💛💛:** _ Between you and me, my bed sheets suit this place much better. We should break it in, you know, make sure our sex life holds up in a new environment... _

**Rhysie👅:** _ Are you taking coke again? I'm too tired to understand you right now. _

**HJ💛💛💛:** _ High on life, kiddo! I'll send you a pic, Angel loves the place! _

Rhys waits, squeezing his eyes shut, tight, enough to make stars burst before his eyelids. He can feel the dull hum of a headache weighing down against his eyes. He lets his phone drop on his chest and throws his arm over his head, shielding his eyes from the agonisingly poisonous glow of the ceiling light above. His phone vibrates but he leaves it, just for a second. He enjoys the quiet, the steady bliss of his own breathing.

The second set of vibrations makes him look. Opening the photo message, he laughs instantly. The first is a perfectly shot photo of Angel sat centre of a ginormous fort of pillows and blankets. She holds her crossed feet and is mid laughter, black hair tousled and cheeks bright red. Either side of her are two tall bar stools to support the gaudy yellow queen size duvet, displayed over Angel and spread out across the four stools to transform into a cotton inhabitant. The duvet is accompanied by a pink blanket that hangs off the side at an angle, covering two sofa cushions balanced on their side, and inside are a plethora of Angel’s stuffed animals, kept safely like it’s the accompanied barnyard to the main entrance. Inside where the toddler sits are more plump cushions, fairy lights, blankets and more. It’s heartwarming. 

The second picture is Jack inside the fort with Angel, both on their backs, him pulling a goofy face while she reaches over to grab him. A little blurry but still cute. Rhys has to smile. 

**Rhysie👅:** _ Not sure it’s big enough for both of us to fit in, let alone have sex inside. _

**HJ💛💛💛:** _ We’ll find a way, pumpkin, don’t worry your pretty little head.  _

Rhys laughs to himself. He holds the phone up and stares at the screen. Jack’s a bit of a push over deep down, behind closed doors. When Rhys first met him, he was a tyrant, striking fear into all his employees and associates just with a single glare. Stories came from every direction -  _ the  _ Handsome Jack had intimidated his way to the top, had lunches with government officials, backtalked benefactors to the point they were afraid to not financially support his projects - and the smug grin he paraded about with just confirmed he loved terrifying people. Their first meeting was at a business conference with several other CEOs.

Rhys was the only one who introduced himself to Jack unprompted. 

Jack was smitten with Rhys. He tried to do the whole intimidation thing, but he never succeeded past a few heated arguments. Rhys was strong willed, stubborn, and it infuriated Jack.

Until it didn’t. 

Until he was swooning, using an array of pet names, leaving his sweet pretty gifts here and there, doing all he could to charm Rhys. Jack was a bully until he  _ wasn’t. _ Once he was hooked, he was soft, and wonderful. 

If Rhys tweeted out this photo of Jack and Angel, he’d never hear the end of it. Jack valued his scary persona, it meant everything to him in his world, and not being feared by his employees and  _ equals  _ poisoned his money. He wanted to be bigger than everyone, and he wanted to be dominant, for the sake of his own vanity. The Jack that made pillow forts with his toddler is an intimate secret for only the most elit. In this case, Rhys. Though the idea to show the world who Jack could be warmed his itchy trigger fingers, he resisted in favour of being special. 

It’s quiet then. Rhys is thinking, wondering, letting his busy thoughts fall through the gaps in his mind like water through a colander. He rolls his neck and shoulders. They click, muscles twisting up and making the aching in his bones reverberate through his body. He whines. Suddenly he’s missing his smile, the distracting happiness of Jack’s ridiculous pillow fort. 

Then, in a burst of inspiration and need, he bolts off the sofa and grabs his keys, rushing out the apartment in a flash.

\- 🌺 -

Jack is in the middle of making dinner when the doorbell rings. He stills in stirring, looks over his shoulder curiously and stares at the door like he has x-ray vision. Angel babbles something incoherent, eyes glued to the distant TV before her throne of pillows and stuffed toys. Jack snorts, acknowledges her like she’s oh so wise, and turns down the stove before answering the door. He’s surprised to see Rhys, exhausted and deflated before him, eyes wide despite how clearly wrecked he is. 

“Well this is a surprise,” Jack leans against the door and smirks, crossing his arms. “Where’s the fire, kitten?”

Rhys exhales heavily and falls against Jack’s chest. The older man huffs out, confused, but eventually goes with his instincts and wraps his arms around him. 

“Today was long.” Rhys mumbles against Jack’s broad pecs. 

“That’s what happens when you’re a boss, baby.” Jack combs his fingers through Rhys’ hair. “I’m making pasta, want a plate?”

Rhys scoffs and pulls away, eyeing Jack up and down as he walks into his home. “Where’s your personal gourmet chef?” He teases. Jack closes the door and saunters back toward the kitchen. 

“Night off. Go sit with Angel in the fort and I'll finish up cooking."

So he does. Rhys crawls into the small fabric wonderland and doesn't make another sound beside a few pleasantries to Angel. She's engrossed in her cartoons, but she makes the effort to nonsensically invite him in and give him a summary of what she's watching. Jack finds it adorable. He can't help but peak over at the scene, admiring his two favourite people in the world in their peace and quiet. 

He brings dinner to them and they all eat inside the fort. Admittedly it's an uncomfortable squeeze, but it's warming, being together. Jack pretends to have a conversation with Angel about her show and attempts to get all her food inside her mouth, and Rhys laughs, enjoying their presence, loving that he's got this familial bliss to escape to. Jack sneaks cheeky glances at his boyfriend every now and then. He can see the cogs grinding in the back of his mind, overworking themselves even when he’s off the clock. Even just a glimmer in the very back of his eyes, Rhys is constantly switched on, working, toiling over tomorrow’s stresses before they’ve even arrived. 

After dinner and after Angel is bathed, dressed and tucked in for bed, Jack returns to the livingroom to find Rhys laying flat on his front inside the fort. He’s breathing heavily, maybe close to drifting off asleep if Jack let him lay, but he kicks him gently, scoffing when the younger man waves him away dismissively. He decides to grab his ankles and yank him out of the fort. 

“Let’s get to bed, kitten, you’ll thank me in the morning when the beauty rest does you a world of good!”

Rhys sarcastically laughs and pushes himself to sit up, but instead of following Jack’s orders, he stares curiously at the arrangement of pillows. He chews his bottom lip as he thinks before smiling triumphantly, theatrically baring his teeth.

“You got any more pillows and blankets?” He turns to look up at Jack, and upon meeting the older man’s eyes immediately sinks back into himself like a scorned dog, embarrassed by the peppy tone in his voice. Jack folds his arms and shrugs, no particular emotions readable on his face, though he does wonder 1. Why Rhys asks, and 2. Why he looks like a child in time out suddenly?

“Why do you ask?”

“Uuuuh, no reason...it’s-- it’s dumb, never mind--”

“Spit it out before I force it out of you, will ya?” Jack rocks to his other side and sighs heavily, prompting Rhys to draw more inward on himself. He scratches the back of his head, coughing obnoxiously to clear his throat, saving some time before his face catches on fire. 

“I was wondering if we could make the fort a little bigger...so that uh, maybe both of us could fit in it more comfortably? But then as soon as I had the idea and looked at you, I realised how stupid it was, so uh if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll just throw myself out your bathroom window now--”

“Aw Rhysie baby, you jealous me and Angel made a castle without you?” Jack struggles to kneel down at Rhys’ level, groaning like the crickety old man he is, but despite his aging joints making him ache something fierce, his tone doesn’t falter in its ability to be condescending. He juts out his bottom lip, mimicking a mocking pout, and exaggerates loud kissing noises until Rhys rolls his eyes. “If you want to fuck on the livingroom floor, you can just ask, we don’t need--”

“No that’s not it, Jack.” Rhys huffs, and falls backwards in defeat. Suddenly Jack’s confused, but more specifically,  _ concerned _ . He’s not ripping his hair out, tearing up for Rhys’ well-being concerned, but the worry is still prevalent, laced in questions he’s not sure how to begin. 

"Well what is it, dumb dumb? You just," Jack chokes back a snicker, straightening out the wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fancy making a fort?"

The evil glare Rhys shoots him wipes the smug smirk off his face.

"It's just been a hectic day, and I don't have anything at my place that takes my mind off the stress of work. Seeing you and Angel, it just...it's stupid, okay? I know it is! But maybe something juvenile is exactly what I need, I don't know! I just know that seeing you two, being around you both in a stupid pillow fort made me forget how exhausted I am, and how tomorrow I'll be back in a suit, signing expense reports and investigating claims that my own employees are stealing money from right under my nose!"

Jack stares at Rhys for a while, trying to figure out the right thing to say to a bombardment of stress as hot as fire. He kicks his legs out and sits on the floor properly, taking in the quiet, waiting for the more that feels inevitable. He’s never been the best at talking about feelings - in fact if there was an award for such, Jack would be first place in keeping himself like a closed book - but he’s got used to the dynamic they’ve built. 

Before Rhys, Jack felt an impending sense of loneliness hurtling toward him at lightning speed. Angel was the only company he had, but every day he worried if he’d be enough for her. He’s a workaholic, it’s practically a disease, and underneath the surface that his macho, charismatic, cocky bravado, he worries endlessly if he’ll deprive her of the love she deserves. Angel is a sanctuary, his saving grace, but she’s not a cure for everything plaguing him, and the horror that lingers in his anxieties over destroying her is...

It was soul destroying.

But  _ Rhys _ . He gave Jack back so much joy he thought he’d lost. Jack doesn’t begrudge downtime anymore, he doesn’t envy the missed late nights at the office, because Rhys made him realise life is worth momentary thrills, even as mundane as building a pillow fort because your toddler was antsy rolling around the settee. Rhys loved Angel fast, unsurprisingly, and it was like Jack had to see it from the outside to realise what truly mattered. Living in the moment, enjoying the good in privacy, and thriving on the small, cosy wins that come from love. 

Jack falls on his stomach to lay beside Rhys and brushes back a strand of his hair, catching his attention. Rhys looks over at him and sighs dramatically when Jack jerks a brow, smirking. 

“So, let's rebuild the fort, yeah?” Jack asks, humorously but still serious enough for Rhys to relax. 

Rhys' body exhales the anxieties torturing him. He nods, rolling over and taking Jack's face in both his hands to kiss him deeply. Jack tries to make the kiss last, lingering when Rhys pulls away, but the younger man has his hand in his grip and yanks him to his feet full force before Jack can object. 

So they disassemble the previously built fort and get to work. Jack theatrically showboats his fort building knowledge, peacocking around the construction area and managing the impossible which is to be condescending about the proper way of constructing furniture for makeshift shelter. Rhys laughs though, eventually smacking him with a pillow and snorting through his cackles when he manages to knock him off his feet. 

It's bigger than the previous one, but less picturesque. There's room for two adult men to lay and spread out a little, but the shape isn't constructed to resemble a child's illustrated house. There's bumps, where the duvet is held up by two stools but slopes downward to balance on the sofa, before being substituted for a bed sheet and blankets, held up by a wall of pillows stacked on one another. The sofa cushions act like an entrance, and thrown over the top is a light blanket that they can pull down when they're inside, propelling them into sheer darkness. Spread out on the floor is a divine sheepskin rug. It's cosy, and utterly ridiculous for two fully grown men to enjoy so much. 

Yet they do. Rhys strips down to his boxers and crawls into the fort, prompting Jack to do the same, dragging a light blanket behind him to cover them both. As Rhys settles down and snuggles against the heavenly rug beneath him, Jack wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him against his body, fitting his back against his chest perfectly. Rhys hums pleasurably when Jack kisses the back of his neck.

"Guessing we're sleeping here tonight?" Jack mumbles, voice starting to drift with his own tiredness. Rhys rests his hands over Jack's, squeezing them. A fond smile lifts his face as he closes his eyes.

"If you're lucky, I'll wake you up with a blow job inside the fort." 

Jack instinctively rolls his hips against Rhys' bum and groans, wrapping his arms around him tighter.

"God, I hit the freakin' jackpot with you, cupcake." As he snuggles up to Rhys more, he leans over gently to kiss his cheek, and Rhys momentarily looks over to see the dark features of Jack's tender expression. They kiss, awkwardly from the angle, but loving nevertheless. "I hope you're feeling better." Jack says, settling back and closing his eyes to fall asleep.

Rhys' heart swells with a wonderful heat. "I do." He replies, and joins Jack to fall asleep, encased in a multitude of pillows.

  
  



End file.
